


Fair Share

by yaskween



Category: The Magicians (TV), The Magicians - Lev Grossman
Genre: Bisexual Quentin, Bisexuality, Eliot is gay, F/M, M/M, Margo is not, Multi, OT3, Possibly Unrequited Love, Quentin is confused, Sorry Not Sorry, Threesome - F/M/M, top!Eliot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-04
Updated: 2016-04-04
Packaged: 2018-05-31 04:57:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6456859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yaskween/pseuds/yaskween
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"'Accio condoms,' Eliot muttered lazily, flicking his fingers in a twist that made the air around them snow purple sparks. Two wrapped squares whizzed out from under the bed.</p><p>'Is that a real spell?' Quentin asked, stunned. </p><p>Margo rolled her eyes. 'Just the gesture. That little nerd joke was definitely for your benefit.'"</p><p>Quentin thought he and Margo were putting Eliot to bed, but Margo and Eliot have better ideas. Semi-requited Margo/Eliot (Eliot is gay, y'all), in that she uses Quentin to get what she needs. Whether Eliot gets what he needs remains to be seen. Quentin gets everything. Mostly a fill-in for episode 1x11, Remedial Battle Magic. Canon-compliant shameless smut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fair Share

“We’re gonna do whatever we can,” Quentin said, taking a deep breath. Margo’s shampoo--different from Alice’s, magnolias?-- flooded his nostrils. “That smells amazing,” he murmured, quiet enough that Margo could ignore it. She whimpered into his chest. The emotional hangover thrummed in his temples. He nuzzled her hair unthinkingly. It was a barely conscious desire, and then he’d done it, and her scent filled him with more.

“Quentin,” she whispered, “Do you think it would help--?” She looked up at him, tear-stained cheeks glistening in the low light, and he leaned down and kissed her before he’d thought about that, too, and she kissed him back with an intensity he would never have expected before now, before the spell made everything so urgent. Eliot shifted in his sleep behind him.

“I didn’t think you liked me,” he said under his breath as she kissed her way down his neck. 

“Take this off,” she replied impatiently, struggling with the long sleeves of his shirt. He pulled it off, slowly, thinking for a moment of Alice, but then Margo was on him again, and he stopped thinking of anything at all. Behind him, Eliot raised himself up on an elbow and watched them blearily for a moment.

“I don’t really like you,” Margo said, pushing Quentin on his back so that Eliot could get a better view, and tossed her leg over Quentin’s to straddle him as she undid the buttons on her jeans. “But he does.” Quentin looked over her shoulder at Eliot, who was eyeing them appraisingly, utterly silent.

“I know,” Quentin muttered, avoiding Eliot’s gaze for a moment as he closed his eyes, intent on the feeling of Margo’s fingernails raking down his chest. Everything felt different, more than new, as if he’d never felt anyone’s skin against his before. His nerves crackled with a pulse of pure greed. He slid his left hand closer to Eliot’s where he knew it rested, still, beside them, and brushed against it reassuringly. “I don’t know why, either.” His eyes opened to meet Eliot’s just as Margo rolled her hips, and he gasped for air. Eliot’s eyes flashed and he grabbed Quentin’s hand in his own, bringing it to his lips. “Jesus,” Quentin rasped, jerking unexpectedly against Margo as Eliot sucked two fingers into his mouth, running his tongue beneath the knuckles.

“Not quite,” Eliot replied around the fingers, humming lightly. Quentin tried to gracefully undo his pants with one hand. Margo did a quick spell he’d never seen that did the job for him. He wanted to say thanks, but found he couldn’t form words.

“Give me that,” Margo said, grabbing Quentin’s saliva-slick hand and placing it neatly between her legs. “There you are.” Eliot threw her a bleary smile. “How are you doing, baby?” She asked him, caressing his chin gently as she shifted her knee between Quentin’s thighs, which elicited a choked moan that startled all three of them. Margo laughed, and ground down harder. 

“Never better,” Eliot sighed, shucking off his leather vest as he swept his gaze over their entwined bodies. “Though even I did not see this coming.” He raised an eyebrow at Quentin’s hard-on, obvious now through the thin fabric of his boxers. He and Margo exchanged a significant look, and for a moment Quentin wondered if they’d done something like this before. Eliot squeezed Margo’s shoulder and he leaned over to kiss her cheek lightly before turning to Quentin.

Quentin’s hand stilled on Margo as Eliot looked at him hungrily, slowly unbuttoning the top of his shirt. She sighed and shifted off of him and off the bed, standing to strip off the rest of her remaining clothes. “No, I mean, I didn’t mean to…” He said, sitting up abruptly and turning around to face her so that his legs dangled off the edge of the mattress. To his surprise, Eliot got unsteadily off the bed as well, standing to face them both. Quentin suddenly felt like an idiot, sitting in his underwear on the edge of a mattress that moments before had felt big enough for all three of them.

“Quentin, stop talking,” Margo said, pushing Eliot gently down to his knees in front of Quentin and running her hands caressingly through his curls. He leaned into her touch. Quentin was shocked Eliot let her touch him that way. “Unless you want us to stop,” she teased. Eliot shifted closer to him, running his hands up Quentin’s thighs and grazing his belly. He leaned perilously close and kissed the downy hair beneath Quentin’s navel, then sat back on his heels.

“Do you want us to stop, Quentin?” Eliot asked coyly, and it was a dare, and Quentin knew it. He shook his head, unable to feel anything past a sudden throb of pleasure, and grabbed Eliot by the hair, roughly pulling him closer. He hadn’t thought things would ever get this far. Eliot swallowed a sound as Quentin kissed him. He let Quentin move them gently at first, then he reached up to pull Quentin’s hair, and the kiss deepened. Quentin vaguely registered a naked Margo wrapping an arm around Eliot and kissing his neck, and he felt a rush of blood leave his head. Eliot grabbed his wrists and forced him to lean back on the bed. Someone kissed their way down his chest. Someone peeled off his boxers. Someone took his cock into their mouth. Quentin moaned. An Alice-like shape floated through his mind, but he’d wanted this too, hadn't he? He opened his eyes to glance down at Eliot bobbing between his legs, and knew he would come. Margo saw it, too.

“Not yet,” she whispered, her fingers casting a complicated web that shimmered in the air between them. Quentin felt a knot at the base of his cock and groaned in frustration. Eliot pulled off of him and delicately licked his lower lip, turning to face Margo. She shrugged nonchalantly.

“Okay, I know you two have like a secret language and I don’t mean to interrupt,” Quentin said, trying to keep his impatience in check, “But I think I’m kind of in the middle of the most erotic thing that’s ever happened to me and I’d really like to… you know…” They stared at him. He huffed in annoyance and sat back up, scooting closer to where they kneeled. “I just…” He sighed again, shaking his head at his own lack of adequate words for the way he was feeling. “I have so many-- emotions right now--”

Margo smiled, Sphinx-like, and kissed him again. Then she kissed Eliot, who broke away to kiss Quentin. Margo slithered downward and brought Eliot’s cock out of his flies. It bobbed against Quentin’s, and both men gasped. Quentin wondered why Eliot’s clothes were still on.

“I’m not getting naked until I know which one of us you’re going to fuck,” Eliot said, reading Quentin’s mind. Quentin’s mouth dropped open. Margo looked at him expectantly, and he thought he saw pleading in her eyes. 

“Do you-- do you think you can-- I mean, if I--?” Quentin still wasn’t forming complete sentences. Eliot and Margo exchanged another significant look, then Margo leaned up to kiss Eliot chastely, a question. His hooded eyes looked haunted for a moment, then Quentin saw him steel himself. 

“Accio condoms,” Eliot muttered lazily, flicking his fingers in a twist that made the air around them snow purple sparks. Two wrapped squares whizzed out from under the bed.

“Is that a real spell?” Quentin asked, stunned. 

Margo rolled her eyes. “Just the gesture. That little nerd joke was definitely for your benefit.” Quentin looked to Eliot for confirmation, whose smile seemed preditorial. He ripped open the condom with his teeth and slid it on himself almost clinically. He handed Quentin the other.

“Okay, yeah,” Quentin nodded, feeling his insecurities pushed out by the powerful comedown of the battle magic spell. He knew they were still there; they just somehow seemed to matter less in the wake of the waves of emotions threatening to swallow him whole. He wanted Margo, and he wanted Eliot, and he was about to have them both. He rolled the condom on slowly and stared for a moment too long at the bed. Margo laid down on one side. Eliot pulled Quentin to his feet. 

“Come on, Sandwich,” he said lightly, pushing Quentin towards the center of the bed. “Don’t start acting like a virgin now.”

Quentin rolled closer to Margo and she kissed him, stroking his cock. He knew he’d have climaxed already if she hadn’t cast whatever devilish spell she had, and even though he could feel frustration prickling at the edge of his mind, it was quickly forgotten. Eliot spooned him from behind and gently massaged his back, working spellcraft in Latin that made Quentin’s whole body warm and pliant. Margo bit Quentin’s lip and he knew she was ready. He curled a finger against her clitoris and moved lower to push it inside of her, and she moaned. He felt a dim wave of panic for a moment, but the next it had disappeared. Behind him, Eliot bit his shoulder, and Quentin groaned and pressed his ass against Eliot’s cock, grabbing Margot’s waist and pulling her closer until he was pressed against her. She snorted in frustration and wrapped her leg around his, bringing them together. Quentin jerked unexpectedly and Eliot let out a harsh breath. He pushed inside of Quentin slowly, and Quentin's hips canted forward into Margo, and then it was happening all at once; Eliot was fucking him in earnest, and he was fucking Margo, and in some strange sense Eliot was fucking Margo in a way he couldn't otherwise, and Margo was getting some version of what she wanted. Quentin watched her eyes fall closed, her mouth moving silently, and he wondered what gods, if any, she believed in enough to thank. She rolled hard against Quentin so that he buried Eliot deeper, and Quentin could barely breathe. He’d never done anything like this before, not even remotely, but he’d thought about it with increasing frequency the longer he’d been at Brakebills. Eliot fascinated him, had always fascinated him, and he hadn’t known whether he wanted Eliot or just wanted to be more like Eliot before now, when it was suddenly clear to him that it was both. He wanted Eliot to do this, wanted something from him Alice couldn’t provide, and he wanted the clinical coolness of Margo and Eliot to rub off on him, too, wanted to graduate from Brakebills being more like them and less like the Quentin he’d been in Brooklyn. He wanted their sophistication and their skill, he wanted their self-possession, but most of all, he wanted them just like this, filling him in a way magic sometimes filled him, when he cast a particularly fine spell or channeled something very closely approximating the divine.

Margo shuddered and rolled off of him, twirling her fingers in what looked like an afterthought behind her as she turned away from him and settled on her side. Quentin felt the spell she’d used to keep him hard lift suddenly, and what had felt moments before like a dull throb of pleasure suddenly spiked. Wave after wave of heat crashed inside of him as Eliot thrust behind him, and Quentin gripped Eliot’s hips to bring him even closer to the edge. He shifted them so that he was on his knees, and Eliot readjusted quickly, laughing roughly at Quentin’s sudden assertiveness. Quentin braced himself and gripped the brass bars of the headboard, pressing his face into his own shoulder to keep from moaning as Eliot ran his hands up his back and pulled his hair. Margo turned over to watch, her mouth falling open slightly. Quentin couldn’t tell if Eliot was still drunk, but he didn’t feel drunk. He snapped his hips back to drive Eliot deeper, and Eliot dropped his head against Quentin’s back, saying something too quietly for Quentin to hear. He reached around to fist Quentin’s cock tightly, and Quentin stilled and came in a rush. Eliot pulled out and Quentin fell onto his stomach, turning to watch Eliot finish. Eliot took off the condom and stared intently at Quentin, stroking himself off. Quentin nodded, for some reason, and Eliot spilled over his fist, spattering Quentin’s chest with come. He collapsed beside him, using a discarded shirt to clean them both off.

Margo watched them intently, then got up to use the bathroom. When she returned, both men were asleep, Eliot’s arm tossed possessively across Quentin’s chest. She crawled into bed beside Eliot and curled against him, hugging him to herself.

**Author's Note:**

> Title a very coded reference to the Stones, "You Can't Always Get What You Want."
> 
> I wrote this because I wanted badly to see that 1x11 threesome. I tried to take every clue from the flashbacks at the end of the episode to figure out what might have gone down. I'm also a big fan of the books, so some Janet-y characterizations of Margo may have slipped through. I hope to spur more Magicians fanfic with this shameless smut. Comments and critiques give me life! Thanks for reading.


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